Day 59

Yesterday, was a difficult day. My sister had the most beautiful, and I mean beautiful, baby girl. Nya Grace. I had the privilege of holding my sister's hand and encouraging her through the process. Moms are seriously superheroes. Really, I mean it. Strap on a cape and they can pretty much do it all. I don't know how I got so lucky, but I have had the opportunity to see not one...not two...but three live births! Each one has left me in awe and wonder. It is absolutely incredible. There aren't even the words to describe it.

After I got married, my girlfriends and I had a joke. I was always the bride never the bridesmaid. We thought ourselves clever for that one! In part, my "bride" syndrome came from age. Ben and I were only 20 and 22 when we got married and it took a few years for my closest girlfriends to catch-up! [side note: Laura gets favorite friend award because when the time came she's the only one who actually let me stand in her wedding, of all my friends! If my sisters are reading this, know that I expect to be in yours...I have lots of good "bridesmaid" years left!]

Anyway...back to yesterday being a hard day. Our coined phrase quickly came to mind. First with a smile, then followed by tears. Always a bride never a bridesmaid. Always a birth "friend" never a birth "mom." Not an easy concept to swallow...even after all these years. It's hard to express my feelings because they're so conflicting. It wasn't being in the room that was difficult...that part was amazing. It wasn't holding her hand, or wiping her tears. It wasn't the cry of precious life or the sweet daddy/baby moments. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't even the fact that she could conceive and I cannot. It was the simplicity and assuredness of the moment that smacked me in the face. My sister had sex. Got pregnant. Never planned a thing. Had a baby. Easy...simple...pure. Now don't misinterpret my emotions. I KNOW how difficult actually having that baby is. I have seen the pain, heard the cries, and watched the exhaustion. I'm talking about the ease of the process. No hiccups. No risk. No wondering if this baby will actually go home with you. No waiting. No heartache. Yet, my expectant journey if full of all the above.

You know how there's certain things in life you were born to do?

I was born to worship God. Born to write. Born to make a difference. Born to be a mom. I am sure in those things; confident. They run through my blood like a part of my DNA and no one can ever take them from me. I was not, however, born to have a baby. (Right now every person who thought/said "don't say that" or "don't lose faith" or "that's not true!" take it back. Really, take it back. Take back what you think is the right or godly response and hear my heart.) I don't think I was meant to have babies. As in birthing them.

I first witnessed the birth of one my closest girlfriends, Laura, [man she really gets the kudos, wedding and birth!). After Maddy plopped her way into the world, with all sincerity I looked at Laura and said, "Will you have all my babies? There's no way I can do this." And I meant it! Watching my sister, last night, the same sentiment came to mind. These fantastic, heroic women, have a strength that I do not posses. I am in awe of God's handiwork at large. I really don't think I was born for childbirth. Truly. I'm not speaking from insecurity or fear or lack of confidence. I just don't feel born to do it. I don't. There's no part of me that even WANTS to do it. For years we went the infertility route because I wanted a baby and that seemed the easiest method. I'm loving life now, knowing that I get to skip over that whole process!

I've read several books that expressed the ache and heartache of adoptive moms that long to carry their own babies. I don't feel it. I've talked to women who have had a difficult time meeting with their birth mom because they are jealous of their ability. I don't understand it. I've heard stories of women that live life torn even with their adopted child. I won't. Those that know me best would agree, I am in confident in everything I do. My confidence comes from knowing who I am in Christ, and walking in it. I am confident in my role as adoptive mother and I am confident that this is the path God has for us. I am secure in my ability and honored to be given such a gift.

We were all born for some things. And maybe not born for others. The balance comes from embracing our talents and not chasing others.

I know I was a little scattered-brained in writing, but there's so many emotions running through my heart, I'm just trying to make sense of them. When my head hit the pillow last night I wanted to cry with exhaustion, but sleep won. Today, is a new day. Jason and Rachael's, Nya Grace, is God's gift to our family today. Ours is a gift to come.

[I'll post a picture when I can!]